


For Want of a Favor

by AndrastesKnickerweasle



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fill, Smut, Some angst may have snuck in there too, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesKnickerweasle/pseuds/AndrastesKnickerweasle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders sets out on an epic quest to find Fenris a worthy favor, and ends up finding something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Want of a Favor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missingnolovefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/gifts).



> Response to a prompt that I found too cute to pass up:
> 
> "Anders wants to gift Fenris a favour - like the red piece of fabric Hawke gives. But the one thing he decides would be appropriate he has no longer. So he asks Hawke and Varric for help tracking down his old earring for ‘sentimental value’.
> 
> (happy ending where he gives the earring to Fenris, or slightly more sad ending where they can’t find it and he’s all morose, so Fenris asks what’s going on and he tells him and then happy kisses)
> 
> \- Bonus points for Hawke and Varric confronting Anders about this search multiple times while Anders is being evasive."

Anders shivered and pulled the blanket away from his bedmate’s tight grasp as the chilled early morning sea breeze snuck in through the open window.  He wouldn’t have figured the fearsome warrior would be such a blighted blanket hog, but then again he wouldn’t have figured he would ever find himself in the man’s bed.  Yet here the mage was, freezing his balls off as he tried in vain to yank the covers from Fenris’ iron grip. 

The elf grumbled and frowned while curling into a tighter ball once the blanket was finally freed.  Anders often wondered if the way the man curled in on himself in his sleep was a conditioned response from his time as a slave, subconsciously trying to make himself smaller to somehow escape the scrutiny of his cruel master.  Or perhaps it was simply a quirk of the prickly bastard’s.  He supposed he shouldn’t care.  Fenris certainly wouldn’t give a second thought to Anders’ sleeping position, or what his favorite food was, or his favorite color, or whether he lived or died.  If he were to answer those questions about Fenris, he would wager  _wine_  was the elf’s favorite food, black his favorite color, and he probably only wanted Anders dead about 20% of the time nowadays, after he had learned that this particular apostate abomination gave _fantastic_ head. 

The mage sighed.  What did he know though?  It wasn’t as though he had ever considered actually _asking_ Fenris things like that.  Those were the little details friends knew, lovers knew, not… whatever it was they were. 

It had started out simply enough as just another spat in the clinic after an outing to the Wounded Coast.  The blighted elf had been drug in by Hawke and left at the door like an unwanted pet, only not half as cute.  The stubborn bastard snapped and snarled and once again refused to let himself be healed by the mage.  Anders was cranky and tired, and Fenris halfway to drunk, words were exchanged, followed by blows, and then no doubt to the confusion of both… heated kisses.  Before Anders knew what was happening he found himself bent over his work table being thoroughly fucked, ruining several pages of his manifesto in the process, though Anders supposed he couldn’t complain too much as he had been the one to cum spectacularly all over them.  Justice had bitched at him all night for that one.  Fenris probably saw it as a side bonus to getting his rocks off.  Bastard.

Anders had walked the next day with a limp in his step and a wary glare in the elf’s direction.  Fenris acted as if nothing had changed though, still baiting and snapping at him at every opportunity, so perhaps nothing _had_ changed.  Writing it off as an act of temporary insanity on both their parts, Anders moved on with his life.

Until it happened again… and again.

Seasons changed, Arishoks rose and fell, they kept fucking without actually acknowledging that they were fucking, and now Anders somehow found himself a tenant in Fenris’ mansion.  One day the bossy bastard had burst into the mage’s clinic and insisted that Anders move out of Darktown as the chill of winter descended on Kirkwall, and the Templars began growing bolder.  He had simply grabbed an armful of the mage’s things (which consisted of most of his meager belongings) and marched up the hidden stairway leading to his cellar without so much as a by your leave.  Anders could suppose there was some sense in his thinking after all, having to fight off Templars with a cold was really no fun for anyone involved… but it was now well into spring, and the elf had yet to throw him out.  Anders refused to think about the fact that he could likely just leave whenever he wished.  So there he stayed, roommates with the rotting corpses in the entry hall and in possession of a room of his own, though it was only for show and for the sake of his own fragile sanity, as he spent more nights than not in Fenris’ bed. 

Other than where he laid his head at night, and who he laid  _with_ , not much else had really changed.  The world still turned, Fenris still hunted down slavers and bitched about mages, Anders still ran his clinic and worked on his manifesto while bitching about Templars, and Hawke still stuck his nose in everyone’s business and added to his torn trouser empire.

Though perhaps it was his imagination, or Maker forbid wishful thinking, but Anders could swear Fenris was fighting not to grin at him when they snarked back and forth almost as much as the mage was these days.  Lately when Anders tried to get a rise out of the prickly elf by initiating any sort of intimate touch or gesture in the privacy of Fenris’ quarters, nearly half of his bluster seemed to be for show as he leaned into the mage’s touch more often than he pulled away.  The other night at Wicked Grace the elf had even dared to brush his foot along the mage’s calf under the table.  The bloody elf had played _footsie_ with him for Maker’s sake!  Frankly Anders was baffled by the elf’s behavior, which could almost he called _affectionate_ by his warped standards, and that wasn’t even considering the recent issue of Hawke’s favor…

 

* * *

 

_3 weeks earlier… after said Wicked Grace footsie incident_

Anders winced and scowled as he was bawdily shoved against the wall of the empty room in the Hanged Man they had stolen away to after the weekly card game had dispersed.  “Oww you bloody basmphf-“

Fenris had learned quickly that the best way to silence a whining mage was by capturing his lips.  He quickly unfastened Anders’ ridiculous coat and roughly grabbed his ass, the metal tips of his gauntlets barely pricking through the thin fabric of his threadbare trousers.  Anders jumped and pulled away from the elf’s aggressive kiss.  “Oh no!  You are _not_ ruining another pair of my trousers!  I don’t have many pairs left!”

The elf growled and squeezed the firm, but unfortunately clothed, flesh beneath his hands.  “Then I suppose you’d better remove them quickly.”

Anders grumbled and swatted the elf’s hands away even as he hurriedly unlaced and gracelessly hopped out of the garments without bothering to remove his boots.  “Blighted bossy bastard, ought to try this stunt on _you_ someday…” his voice took on a mocking gravelly tone, “Then you’d better remove them qui-ah!“ the air rushed out of this lungs the moment his trousers hit the floor and he found himself unceremoniously lifted from the ground, his legs pushed to wrap tightly around the warrior’s narrow hips as the elf quickly yanked the laces of his breeches open.

“You know I really should be embarrassed how easily you can do that…” Anders grumbled before trailing off in a moan he tried valiantly to muffle by biting on a knuckle when Fenris reached beneath them to rub the head of his cock teasingly against the mage’s entrance, smearing pearly drops of pre-cum as he went.

“But you’re too busy getting off on it aren’t you mage?”  Fenris whispered in his ear with a smug grin as he supported the weight of the full grown man who stood a head taller than him as though he were no heavier than one of his blighted giant swords. 

Anders grit his teeth and wrapped his arms around the elf’s neck, threading his fingers through his stupidly soft white hair.  “Just shut up and fuck me!”

Fenris' emerald gaze snapped to Anders’ amber one and spoke seriously in low tones, his dark eyebrows furrowed.  “Tell me you want this mage.”  They were the same words he always spoke since that first fateful night together. 

At first Anders had thought the toppy bastard was trying to humiliate him and make him beg, but after the same words were exchanged again and again, he began to see it for what it was… the elf needed his consent.  Both men had no shortage of frustration toward the other, and neither had led the kind of life that lent itself to tender lovemaking, but no matter how rough they got or how much they blurred the line between pleasure and pain, Fenris always _always_ had to know that Anders truly wanted it before he continued.  The implications of the elf’s unfailing need for that assurance despite them fucking on a consistence basis for months now stirred emotions in Anders that he would rather not think on.  Emotions that had Justice raging in the back of his head and had Anders feeling uncharacteristically tender _lovemakey_ things about Fenris.

“Fenris… you know…” Anders squirmed in an effort to sink onto the elf’s length.

The elf grit his teeth and held the mage up, his arms trembling slightly from need rather than fatigue.  “ _Tell_ me Anders.”

“Yes,” Anders hissed against his lips, “I want you Fenris.”

Fenris gave him a feral grin and grabbed the mage’s hand, bringing it below them to circle his heated length.  Anders knew what he wanted.  The elf’s brands flared bright as Anders pulled on the Fade to summon a bit of grease in his palm to quickly slick Fenris’ prick and line him up against him.  Fenris fairly dropped him on his cock, letting gravity drive the mage down and bury the elf up to the hilt inside him.  Anders bit the junction at Fenris’ neck and shoulder to muffle his cry of pained pleasure, silently thankful they did this so often that he didn’t often need preparation. 

He groaned and tightened his grip in the elf’s hair as Fenris slowly lifted the mage nearly off his cock and released him again, the pleasant burn of being stretched and penetrated slowly serving only to tease him further.  “Stop playing and fuck me properly!”  He growled in frustration as he moved his hips encouragingly.

“So eager for my cock mage…” Fenris chuckled darkly in his ear.  Anders groaned but didn’t deny it as Fenris complied with the mage’s request.  The elf set a brutal pace, sliding in and out of Anders’ tight heat fast and hard, each thrust driving the mage slightly up the wall and bunching his coat awkwardly behind him before he slammed down to meet Fenris’ hips as they pounded up into him again.  Neither of them would last long at this rate, and that was fine, that was _perfect_.  A quick and dirty fuck was just what both of them wanted, _needed_.  Someone could walk in any moment, Maker they hadn’t even locked the door!  Anders' cock throbbed at the notion and he reached a hand between them, intent on speeding along his rapidly approaching climax.

His wrist was caught in a gauntleted grip, followed by his other hand, Fenris pinning both of them against the wall on either side of his head.  “No mage,” he grunted as he pounded into him without faltering, “You will cum only from this, only from my cock inside you.”

“Bastard.” Anders growled and moaned in frustration, arching his back to press his weeping cock against the elf’s stomach in search of more friction.  Fenris responded by shoving the mage hard against the wall, forcing their bodies tightly together and trapping the mage’s throbbing length between them while he rutted quick and rough, hitting the hidden bundle of nerves deep inside the mage in a constant barrage of pleasure.

“Call… call me what you like mage… while you still have the words… before all you can do is…  is scream my name.”  The blighted elf still managed to look smug even as he teetered on the edge.

Anders glared back as he bounced on the elf’s hot prick, “Maker you think you’re- oh _Maker_!  You think you’re some sort of sex God don’t you?  Well I’ll have you know- ah yes!  I can hold out just as long as you!  Maybe you’ll be the one- sweet Maker _yes_!  Scr-screaming _my_ name!”

Fenris grunted and dropped Anders’ hands to grasp his hips tight enough to bruise and slammed them together at a frantic pace.  Sweat fell from his brow as he leaned forward to suck and bite at the mage’s neck in a way that was sure to leave a mark.  “I do not scream…” he raised his head to breathe into the mage’s ear, “…Anders.”

As Anders felt Fenris shudder and flood him with his hot seed, the evidence of the elf’s orgasm rushing against his prostate in a heated surge, the mage’s climax slammed into him before he realized it was happening.  His release jetted from him hot and wet between their tightly pressed bodies as his vision whited out and he, of _course_ , screamed the blighted elf’s name.

“Mmmm told you mage…” Fenris whispered with a smug grin.

Anders sagged bonelessly against him and only grumbled incoherently in reply, still too busy floating pleasantly in bliss to argue.  Fenris gently pulled his spent cock from the mage and lowered him to the ground.  With his fingers once again tangled loosely in Fenris’ hair, Anders saw no reason not to take advantage of the situation and draw their lips together.  They fucked far more often than they simply kissed, so Anders had come to consider it a rare treat, the elf only allowing it without bristling or complaining after a particularly mind blowing orgasm.  This one seem to qualify as Fenris slid his arms beneath Anders’ open coat and stroked down his spine as he melted into the kiss.  Their tongues met and teased one another, chasing and caressing as their hearts slowed together. 

As always, the moment ended far too soon for Anders, as Fenris pulled away with a fleeting tug on his bottom lip.  “We should be gone mage, someone may find us.”  He murmured as he tucked himself away in his leggings.

 _Would that really be so bad if they found out_?  Maker he almost said it, but he stopped himself… again.  Even though most of their friends seemed to realize something had changed between them, actually acknowledging it and admitting it aloud would cross one of the many invisible lines that bound their relationship… whatever that relationship was exactly.  Anders found himself wanting to test those bounds more and more of late. 

The mage sighed and decided as always to err on the side of caution and non-heart ripping territory, opting instead to pull away and grimace at the sticky splatter slowly drying between them.  “Maker we made quite the mess didn’t we?”

Fenris rose an eyebrow as he too assessed the damage.  “I believe you are the one responsible for this mess.”

“Yes but who made me cu-“ he quickly shut his mouth at the smug grin blossoming on Fenris’ lips.  “Oh just help me find something to clean this off!”

The elf surveyed the bare room dispassionately.  “Do you think I carry wash rags for such occasions mage?  Just use your blighted coat.”

Anders' eyes narrowed at Fenris’ continued disrespect of his beloved coat.  As he looked at the elf’s attire to choose something _he_ was wearing to soil, the choice became obvious as his gaze fell upon that blighted scrap of red fabric, the one he had subconsciously begun to avoid looking at whenever possible, Hawke’s favor.  “Looks like you’ve got a rag right there.”  Anders muttered, not without a hint of jealousy.

Fenris followed the man’s gaze and tightened his fist, shifting the hand slightly behind his back, whether to hide or protect the fabric Anders wasn’t certain.  “Drop it mage.”  He said coldly.

“It was _years_ ago Fenris…”

“It is none of your concern!”

Sadness filled Anders’ eyes as he trailed a finger down his cooling seed still wet on Fenris’ tunic.  “No, can’t imagine why I’d think otherwise.”  Anders whispered bitterly.  All feelings of contentment and bliss were gone now, leaving Anders standing there shivering with no trousers on, thick drops of Fenris’ cum dribbling down between his legs and covered in his own mess, feeling like a fool.  Feeling like a _whore_.  Even after the unique brand of intimacy they had shared for months, even years after the elf’s failed relationship with Hawke, apparently his one bloody night with the Champion of Kirkwall trumped anything Anders could ever do, could ever _be_ to Fenris.

Anders turned away and quickly grabbed his trousers, roughly tugging them on and making a futile attempt at wiping off his shameful mess before pulling his coat tight around his frame and storming out the door.  His eyes burned as Justice needled at him all the way to Darktown.  They had wasted time, the elf had been a distraction, it was better this way… 

With Justice’s whispers echoing through his mind, he had missed Fenris calling his name behind him, his unshed tears blurring the elf’s figure as he stared down thoughtfully at the crimson favor around his wrist and frowned...

It had been days before Fenris had shown his face in the clinic, the elf looking uncharacteristically unsure with a small frown on his lips and his ears faintly blushing… his wrist noticeably bare.  He had not said much, there had been no renting of clothes or gnashing of teeth as he poured his heart out in a tearful apology.  Fenris simply walked up to him, reached out and caressed his face with surprising gentleness and whispered, “Tell me you want this Anders.” 

At the mage’s whispered affirmative Fenris had kissed him more tenderly than he ever had before, then taken his hand and silently led him back up to Hightown.  And that, as they say, was that.

 

* * *

 

Which brought Anders back to sharing a bed with a grumpy unrepentant blanket hog.  As the elf slowly began drawing the cover the mage had just liberated only moments before back into his clutches, Anders figured there was more than one way to skin a nug.  He snuggled in close and curled up to spoon behind the elf, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him tight against his chest.  Fenris began to stir and stiffen his back in panic at the sudden contact. 

Anders was quick to soothingly caress his chest and whisper in his pointed ear.  “It’s just me.  You’re a terrible blanket hog, so you brought this entirely on yourself.”

“Hm wha- mage?”  Fenris croaked out, still half asleep.

“Unless you are sleeping with other mages behind my back, then yes, ‘mage’ here.”  He chuckled lightly and pressed a light kiss to the elf’s ear, “Go back to sleep.”

To Anders’ supreme shock, Fenris not only relaxed into his embrace, but soon turned in his arms and tucked his face into the crook of the mage’s neck.  “…mm nota blanket hog…” he murmured before sighing and wrapping an arm around Anders’ waist. 

Anders' heart nearly beat out of his chest as a frankly goofy smile spread across his features.  Fenris, grouchy prickly and staunchly anti-snuggly _Fenris_ was cuddling him!  As he looked down at the peacefully sleeping man laying so trustingly in his arms… Anders couldn’t help but want to push the bounds of this strange relationship of theirs just a little further…

 

* * *

 

_Later that day in the Darktown clinic_

_Potion bottle, roll of bandage, a couple coins, yet another potion bottle, Maker where is it?!_   Anders’ hopes fell as he searched the few places the item he sought could be.  _Tevinter Chantry Amulet, oh Sweet Maker no!_   The mage quickly placed the gift from Hawke back into the box of forgotten bric-a-brac that hadn’t made it to Fenris’ place when he’d more or less moved in with him.  Somehow he figured that particular item would not go over well.  “It has to be here somewhere… unless… oh no… please tell me I didn’t…”

“You didn’t!”  The mage swore and bumped his head on the cabinet he was buried in as Merrill’s soft voice floated toward him.  “But… what didn’t you Anders?” 

“Ah, Merrill, I didn’t realize I was speaking aloud…” he murmured as he rubbed his head.

“Oh I do that sometimes too!  But usually I think in Elvish but speak in common so it can get confusing…”

“You’re charming no matter which language you’re speaking darling,” Hawke’s bearded face peeked out from behind his lover’s shoulder to coo.  Anders still couldn’t picture how the big teddy bear of a man and Fenris had ever worked together, but then again he supposed they _hadn’t_.  The mage tried very hard not to feel smug at that thought, though he didn’t entirely succeed.  He was drawn from his musings as their leader focused his attention on him.  “Looking for something Anders?  Anything we can help with?”

Anders _was_ looking for something, but he had a sneaking suspicion what had happened to it.  The mage sighed heavily and rose to his feet.  “I was looking for something I had back in Ferelden, but I’ve looked everywhere, and the more I think about it, I think I may have had to sell it when I came to town.”

“What was it?”  Merrill asked with wide eyes eager to help. 

This was really something he would rather not discuss with others, but as long as he didn’t mention _why_ he was looking for it, he supposed there wasn’t any harm.  “It was a gift from the Warden Commander, a gold earring.”

Hawke grinned knowingly, “Thinking of piercing your ear again eh?  I hear the ladies love it!”

Anders laughed nervously.  “Ahaha, yes, y-you caught me!  Mores the pity, all those ladies will just have to miss out!  Too bad!  Well I’ve got to get back to work-“

“Wait Anders!  Don’t give up so easily!  Why don’t we just get you a _new_ earring?!”

“That’s right!”  Merrill piped up, “You’re our friend, and Hawke’s got… what was it Aveline said… oh, ‘more money than sense’, so he’d be glad to get you one!”

Hawke frowned minutely and made a mental note the pay his _former_ favorite Guard Captain a visit.  “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but the sentiment remains the same!” he said enthusiastically, his wide smile making a triumphant return.

“No no you don’t understand!”  Anders held up his hands and took a step back from the vile fiends intent on taking him shopping, “That earring had sentimental value, it’s got to be that one!  It really doesn’t matter, I’ll just think of something els-“

“Then let’s just find _that_ earring!”  Merrill said as though it were the obvious answer.

“You’re so clever my love!  If we just find who he sold it to and follow the trail we can buy it back!”  Hawke enthused, seemingly always up for one more ridiculous adventure.  Anders was all but forgotten as the couple excitedly made their plan of attack.

Before he knew it they had tromped halfway across Kirkwall following leads several years old for a nondescript golden earring.  Anders wasn’t sure how he would even recognize it again, but as they soon roped Varric and Aveline into the search, the mage realized that this whole affair had quickly spiraled out of his control…

“So let me get this straight,” Aveline began, “After Anders sold it to Lirene she says a dwarf bought it…”

“…right, and after some digging with my contacts in the Carta it turns out it was Javaris…”

“…who said he sold it to a miner in the Bone Pit…”

“…who died when that dragon ate him, it was very sad…”

“…which is how it ironically ended up in Hawke’s hands for a short time after we killed the dragon…”

“…and not knowing it was Anders’, I sold it, sorry about that by the way…”

Anders rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Oh, you’ve remembered I’m still here have you?”  They ignored him and continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“…so Hawke sold it to Jean Luc…”

“…who sold it to Lady Harimann…”

“…whose family donated all her possessions in reparation for her deeds to…”

“The Chantry!”  All four of Anders’ companions shouted at once before excitedly dragging him off again.

As they walked and Hawke questioned Aveline about her comment regarding the questionable relationship between his sense and his coin, Varric kept shooting Anders sly glances.  “So, Blondie…”

Anders sighed heavily and braced himself.  “Yes Varric?”

“I can’t help but notice we’ve almost got the whole gang here, we’re even getting Choir Boy in on the act!  Just think, if we had Broody here, we could just intimidate information out of people… say where _is_ he anyway?”  He asked with an eyebrow raised.

The mage cleared his throat and refused to meet his gaze, “I don’t know, I’m not the elf’s keeper.”

“That’s not what I hear… and the walls at the Hanged Man are about as high quality as their ale, so I hear a _lot_.”  Anders nearly tripped, his face heating up rapidly as the dwarf pressed on, “So, want to tell me why we are _really_ on a wild nug chase for an old earring of yours?  Might it have something to do with the fact Broody suddenly isn’t wearing Hawke’s favor any longer?”

“Don’t push me Varric.”  He growled faintly as the nosy dwarf got far too close to the truth.

“Better watch yourself Blondie, you’re even beginning to sound like him!”  Varric replied with a laugh.

“And what would be so wrong with that?!”  Anders snapped, turning to glare at the rogue, “Even if you _may_ have heard something in the Hanged Man, and even _if_ this had anything to do with Fenris, which I’m _not_ saying it does, what would be so bloody wrong with that?!”

He looked up at Merrill’s gasp, suddenly realizing just how much he’d raised his voice.  The elf held her hand daintily over her open mouth as she stared and blinked owlishly… as they _all_ stared and blinked owlishly.

Anders gulped and opened his mouth to try and dig himself out of the hole he’d gotten himself into, when Sebastian stepped out of the Chantry to greet them.

“My friends!  Have you come to share in the Maker’s love?”

Merrill clasped her hands and jumped up and down giddily, “Not today, but we can share in Anders and Fenris’ love instead!  Oooo I think he’s finally going to propose!  Though it seems odd to use an earring… do humans give earrings instead of regular rings?”

“They certainly have been dancing around each other long enough,” Aveline muttered as she rolled her eyes.

Hawke beamed and slapped him hard on the back, “Anders you sly dog, you had me completely fooled!  Congratulations!”

“No- I- it’s not- gaaah” Anders sputtered futilely before placing his hands over his flaming face and groaning.

“I’ve… got the feeling I missed something.” Sebastian spoke up as he scratched the back of his neck in confusion.

Varric stepped forward to usher him back toward the Chantry, “Well Choir Boy, sometimes, when a blonde apostate and a broody elf loathe each other _very_ much, you get a thing called sexual tension…”

After several minutes that Anders desperately wished he could wipe from his memory (as he suspected Sebastian was already trying to do if his franticly whispered prayers were any indication), the Chantry brother had sadly informed them that any assets bequeathed to the Chantry that were made of precious metals were smelted and turned to gold and silver brick to be sent to Val Royeaux, where they would be allocated back out to the flock wherever it was deemed most needed.

It was with a heavy heart and severely fraying nerves that Anders plopped down at the Hanged Man’s bar at their journey’s end and ordered the strongest foulest ale they had.  Justice tried to pipe up about his drinking, but Anders was in _no_ mood as he swallowed a mouthful of the paint thinner they dared to call alcohol.  He was so busy considering whether he should give in and use his healing magic to regrow the tissue that was no doubt being stripped from his throat with every sip that he didn’t even notice the dark haired beauty settle down beside him.

“So, Kitten tells me you and Fenris are officially fucking!  You’ve _got_ to tell me the color of his underclothes, my money’s on red!”  Isabela purred and scooted forward in her stool, peering at him expectantly.

Anders groaned and banged his head repeatedly on the sticky bar, thinking if he were lucky he’d knock himself unconscious.

 

* * *

 

The mage eased open the door to Fenris’ mansion and slinked up the stairs, hoping desperately that the elf wouldn’t hear him as he crept away to his rarely used room.  Not only had Anders failed to find a worthy favor for him, he had inadvertently all but revealed their relationship to their friends.  He wasn’t anxious to see the elf’s reaction to that bit of news.  Anders had nearly made it to the safety of his room when even the floorboards turned against him, the squeak echoing loudly through the cavernous mansion as though it had been a clap of thunder.

“Mage?”

Anders sighed and shuffled toward Fenris' gravelly voice coming from the elf's bedroom.  Fenris stood to greet him, his customary bottle of wine dangling from his fingers, though it looked as if he had only recently opened it.  As the elf glimpsed the mage’s haggard form, he furrowed his eyebrows, set the wine on the table beside his chair and walked toward him.  “You look troubled, what has happened?”  He clenched his fists at his side, “Have the Templars-“

Anders couldn’t help but smile softly at the elf’s rather sweet overreaction as he raised his hands, “No no, it’s nothing like that.  It’s… it’s just been a very long day.”

Fenris’ whole frame seemed to relax as he turned slightly to beckon the mage toward the two chairs by the fire.  “Join me?”

The mage offered him a small crooked grin and followed him to slump in a high backed chair beside the elf.  He blinked as the wine bottle was shoved in front of him.  “Perhaps after such a long day your dem-“ Fenris coughed awkwardly and clenched his teeth, “ _Spirit_ might let you indulge a bit?”

Anders’ grinned softly.  It wasn’t quite the ringing endorsement of his dubious life choices he would have liked, but Maker Fenris was _trying_.  “Sod him if he tries to stop me.”  The mage grumbled defiantly as he grabbed the bottle.  Justice made the requisite sputtering disapprovals, but they sounded halfhearted at best.  After all, the Fade Spirit had been along for the ride during this entire blighted day and probably would envy the mage’s ability to numb his humiliation and frustration with alcohol if he had the capacity to understand such worldly pleasures.  In an act of compromise with the tea totaling Spirit, Anders limited himself to two hearty pulls on the bottle and handed it back to Fenris.

They sat in silence for a time, each man staring into the fire.  Fenris occasionally took a drink from the bottle while Anders fidgeted, absently toying with his coat fastenings and squirming anxiously. 

“I would know your thoughts mage.”

Anders froze mid-fidget to look wide eyed at the elf, certain he had misheard the quiet rumble of his voice over the sound of the fire popping and crackling in the hearth.  “My thoughts… well, ah, I think mages should be free?”

Fenris sighed and gave him a _look_.  “Anders.”

The mage sighed and looked away from his emerald gaze.  “I just… I spent the whole day on a fruitless quest and all I have to show for it are tired feet and severely wounded pride.”

“So just another Tuesday then?”  Fenris asked with a barely there smirk.

Anders smiled despite himself.  “Yes I suppose it was.”

“What was this fruitless quest of yours?”

“It was silly, I mentioned to Hawke and Merrill that I was looking for something I’d had back in Ferelden, and before I knew it the whole bloody crew ended up tromping across the blighted city only to find it’s now living life as part of a brick in bloody Orlais.”  Yes, that was safe, no mention of what it was, or why he was looking, or what he had said-

“Everyone else came with you?”  Fenris muttered with a frown as he looked down to absently run his finger around the rim of the wine bottle, “Did you not think I could have been of help?”

Anders blinked.  _Maker, he almost sounds… hurt?_   The mage tried to dispassionately weigh the pros and cons of telling Fenris the entire story, but as he watched the elf’s ears droop sadly, the blighted words were already leaving his mouth before he could stop them.  “I was looking for something to give to you, so I could hardly tell you could l?!  I thought… after one night with Garrett ‘I’m so bloody fantastic’ Hawke you wore his favor for three blighted years… I thought maybe… after all the times we’ve…” he dared to look at Fenris to find the elf staring intently back, his emerald eyes wide with shock and his ears faintly turning red.  “It was a stupid idea…”  Anders mumbled and quickly looked away as his own face traitorously flushed.  _Maker this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!  We’re supposed to argue, and fuck, and argue while fucking… we don’t sit by the fire and bloody blush at each other like a couple of lovers_ \- Anders gasped at the foolish romantic notion and looked resolutely at his boots.

Fenris cleared his throat awkwardly and spoke almost shyly, “You… you wanted me to wear your favor?”

“I did mention it was stupid didn’t I?!”  Anders grumbled bitterly, certain any moment the mocking would begin.  He could dish insults and jibes with the elf just as well as he could take them, but… not about this.  This… whatever this was Anders was attempting… it was too real, too raw.  He would not suffer the elf to make fun of this.

Fenris quirked a dark eyebrow, “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?  What was this favor to be exactly?  It sounds like you went on quite the journey to try and find it.”

Anders hesitantly looked up to meet Fenris’ eyes and found only curiosity were he had expected to find disdain.  He swallowed thickly and told him the whole sorted tale…

“…so now my earring is off feeding and clothing Chantry orphans and everyone knows that we’ve been fucking and I’m pretty sure Merrill is actively planning our blighted _wedding_!”  The mage groaned and buried his head in his hands.  “I’m so sorry Fenris, I’ve really cocked this whole thing up.”

The mage looked up and glared defensively at the elf’s soft laughter, though his glare melted away in the face of the small fond smile Fenris offered him.  “Fool mage, I think the others have known for quite some time.  As for this golden earring of yours, I don’t need anything as fine as that.  Besides, a favor is meant to represent you, and I have never known you to wear jewelry.”

“Yes well, I thought I could do better than a blighted scrap of fabric I had lying about!”  Anders grumbled and looked away.

Fenris sighed and walked the few steps to stand before Anders.  He took the man’s head in his hands and turned his face toward his hips.  “It is not a competition mage.”

Anders glared up at the elf, “Yes it is and you bloody well know it!  He’s so dashing and strong and bloody perfect, the blighted _Champion_ , and you wore it for so _long_ …” he trailed off sadly and turned his gaze to Fenris’ crotch where the elf held his head in place.  The mage scowled, “And I’m not in the mood you toppy bastard!  In case you hadn’t noticed I’m here pouring my blighted heart out and all you can do is shove your prick in my face-“

The words died on his lips as the elf heaved a long suffering sigh and shifted his hips slightly to the side, letting Anders catch a flicker of movement.  His amber eyes widened as he reached out to lightly touch the small bundle of three tawny feathers tied to a belt loop on the elf’s leggings with a familiar looking leather strip.  “Fenris… this… are these?”

“From your ridiculous coat, and that is one of your hair ties.”  As he spoke he removed the hair tie the mage currently wore and began absently carding his fingers through the red gold strands, “I figured the feathers were too delicate to wear on my wrist while I fought, so I put them there, where my satchel of healing potions would protect them in a battle.  It… it reminds me of you… my mage.”  He finished softly.

“Feathers… and my hair tie… bloody _healing_ potions…” Anders mumbled brokenly before reaching out to embrace the man before him.  He buried his face in Fenris’ tunic, hoping that the elf was willing to ignore the faint spots of moisture coming from the vicinity of his eyes to soak into his clothing, “…your mage.”  Anders breathed into the warm soft fabric.

Fenris froze momentarily as the mage hugged his torso, but quickly recovered and brought both hands up to thread through the mage’s hair and hold him close.  Eventually Anders pulled away with a self-deprecating laugh and tried to look nonchalant as he wiped the tears from his eyes.  “Well don’t I feel foolish now?  Maker Fenris, how long have you been wearing that?”  He looked up in an attempt to glare indignantly, but the only expression he seemed to be able to muster was a silly grin.

Fenris saw his grin and raised him a small but genuine smile that went all the way to his emerald eyes as he replied, “Ever since the night that you came back home.”

Anders eyes widened.  “H-home?”

The elf knelt down on the rug before him and took the mage’s hands, his ears heating once again.  “If- if you want it Anders.”

The mage laughed softly and slid off the chair to take Fenris’ face in his hands.  “Fenris, you never need to ask again,” he brought their foreheads together and whispered against the elf’s slightly parted lips, “There will _never_ be a time when I don’t want you.”

Fenris growled and shoved him to the rug at that point, and proceeded to fuck him senseless right there beside the fireplace… and again when they found the energy to move onto the bed.  Perhaps their fucking may have encroached rather dangerously into tender _lovemakey_ territory that night, but neither of them felt inclined to point it out.  The elf still asked before he took him, and Anders suspected he always would, just as he would likely always hog the blighted blankets.  

Anders sighed and snuggled up close beside his prickly bastard, feeling Fenris grumble against his neck even as the elf pulled him closer... and smiled.


End file.
